AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What happened?” he said carefully.
She squished her eyes shut and thought about her day. Jake. Her mom. Cheerleading.
She opened her eyes and caught her body in the edge of the mirror, the way the shorts were cutting into her stomach, creating a little roll there.
Crisco.
She wanted to punch the glass, to watch cracks form a disjointed spiderweb across her reflection. Her hand formed a fist.
But she didn’t swing it. Something worse happened.
She started crying.
CHAPTER 2
Nick knew what was expected when girls started crying: a hug, a minute or two of listening, a minute or two to offer some soothing words, and a wry smile followed by the suggestion that they find some chocolate. Or ice cream. Or both.
Much like the accounting, he could do it in his sleep.
But Quinn didn’t even let him get to the hug. She jerked her hands away from him and swiped the dampness from her eyes, then stood. “God. Next time I start to do that, smack me or something.”
“Sure. Sounds perfectly socially acceptable.” He paused. “You okay?”
She pulled her ponytail free and started to retie it. “I hate when they make me do that.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
“I was shooting for a more specific list of people.”
She turned away from him. “I don’t think the cheerleading thing is going to work out.”
“Did something happen?”
“Your brother was right.”
Sometimes she jumped between topics until Nick couldn’t keep track of what she was talking about. It probably made most people nuts, but it was one of the things he liked best about her—nothing was expected. “Which brother?”
She gave him a look. “Gabriel. I am too fat to be a cheerleader.”
Sometimes his twin could be a real ass. “Quinn—you’re not fat.”
“You’re right. I’m sure they were calling me Crisco because I make great cookies.”
Damn. He let out a breath. “But you’re not—”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“You want to talk about what happened with your mom?”
“Hell, no.” She jammed the iPod into the side pocket of her bag.
When she straightened, he caught her waist and tossed her into the air. She gasped, but he caught her and held her up, his hands braced on her rib cage. “I couldn’t do this with a fat girl.”
And okay, he probably could. Landscaping wasn’t light work, and he was used to slinging bags of pea gravel and limestone. Quinn was no feather, but his biceps weren’t screaming at him, either.
Quinn glared down at him. “Put me down before you lose your hands in the rolls.”
